


Not Just a Girl

by Strbck23



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Episode: s07e17 All Things, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8877502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strbck23/pseuds/Strbck23
Summary: Post-all things





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennylovescastle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennylovescastle/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I had a talk with Mulder and Scully, recently. They said they’re going to stay with their owners, because they did a pretty good job with season 10 and want to go back for season 11. They came to me for this story, though. Yay!
> 
> Rating: I can’t not write smut. This story is rated P for Perv. Reader discretion is advised. 
> 
> Spoilers: post-all things
> 
> Author’s Notes: This story is dedicated to my dear friend Jenny. One of my biggest cheerleaders, that needs some cheering up. Shout out to my friends, old and new, in the peanut gallery. I’ve had a blast creating recipes for smut stew. Thanks a million billion to WildwingSuz for a mega-fast beta read.
> 
> It puts the feedback in the basket!
> 
>  
> 
> Not Just a Girl-She Wants Revenge
> 
> Your eyes, your eyes tell me everything.  
> The first, the last and in between, that's everything.  
> Your kiss, your kiss so wet I loose my breath, your lips erase the old regrets, of anything.
> 
> You're not just a girl, you're more like the air and sea.  
> I want you so desperately and nothing's gonna keep us apart.
> 
> Your voice, its whispering against my neck,  
> Your lips, erase the old regrets of anything.  
> Your mind, it makes me wanna know you more,  
> So tell me what we have in store, tell me everything.
> 
> You can say anything, and you can say anything, and you can say anything to me.

  
I am in that waking phase of sleep, that other-worldly place between dreams and real life. I just woke a few moments ago, not completely rested, but my full bladder doesn't much care how much more rest I need. What time is it? For that matter, what day is it? I lift up on my elbows, twisting my head in the direction of the alarm clock on the nightstand behind my head without losing my comfortable position long enough to read the display. 11:47 PM. I turn my head to its original position, letting my face thud back down on the pillow. I close my eyes, hugging the rumpled comforter to my bare chest.

Trying to ignore the urge to piss, I attempt to welcome sleep again, until I remember the day's events. Scully may still be out there on my couch, where I left her covered with that scratchy blanket. I wonder if she's stretched out, or even gotten up to leave, but it would not surprise me if she has not. I've seen her sleep in more uncomfortable positions, in more uncomfortable places, for longer periods than since I left her there after she drifted off so quickly.

I flop over onto my back, kicking the covers down to my waist, scratching at the itchy whiskers growing on my jaw with both hands. Wow, Scully really opened up to me tonight. When I left for England the other day, I could feel her drifting from me. In one of those unpredictable funks of hers, I had been angry with her, at her disinterest in my presentation. And honestly I was still a little sore about her field trip with Old Smokey.

I had been annoyed with her right up until the crop circle event failed to happen and I took a side trip to Stonehenge. All my years spent in England and I had yet to visit the place before now. I had been taking pictures with an overpriced disposable camera when I realized I missed Scully. It was hard to stay mad at her when standing around in something so much bigger, so much more ancient than all of our problems. I'd only wished she were there with me.

I let out a frustrated sigh, kicking the covers down to my feet before scooting to the edge of the bed and swinging my feet to the floor. I am almost to the bathroom when I hear the toilet flush and the tap running in the sink. I stop in my tracks, considering pulling on a t-shirt when Scully swings open the door. She spots me just before she switches off the light.

“Tea went right through me,” I quip as I edge past her, my hand barely brushing across her shoulder. “Excuse me.”

I quickly use the bathroom, wanting to show her out when she leaves, as I am sure she is about to do. I briskly rinse my hands, drying them on my pajama pants as I exit the bathroom.

I am surprised to see her not only sitting on my bed, but nearly reclined back on my pillow. I think she had been lying back, but she's now perched up on her elbows with an apologetic smile. “Comfy bed,” she answers and shrugs in response to my raised eyebrows.

I sit on the edge of the bed, right up against her left calf before she has a chance to move. I bounce once or twice like someone testing it out in a mattress store.  “Yeah, I actually shopped around for a couple days after the waterbed ordeal last year. I'm glad I did it's uh...it's a good mattress…” I trail off.

“Ah, the waterbed…” I feel her shift on the bed behind me.

“Don't start, Scully,” I smirk.

“But when did you get it?”

“I told you, aliens must have left it for me.” I told her that so many times in the weeks after it went Niagara Falls in here, I think I started to believe it myself. I switch on my bedside lamp and finally turn to face her, lifting my left leg, bent at the knee, up on the bed while my right foot stays planted firmly on the floor.

She smirks at me, shaking her head. She's now sitting up, leaning back on her hands that are resting right below my pillow. I take in her appearance. From her nylon covered right leg, bent at the knee, to the uncharacteristically unpressed skirt on her thighs. My own thigh, covered in green and blue plaid pajama pants pressed up against her hip. Her wrinkled blazer and her green sweater, also rumpled uncharacteristically down her torso. A quick, practiced, completely characteristically male glance at her breasts before a smile pulls at the corner of my lips when I take in her hair.

Without thought, I raise a hand to her crown, picking out a lock of hair on the wrong side of her part and returning it to its home on the right side of her head. I watch my fingers play with the end of her hair, it's soft. My eyes rove over her perfect eyebrows, her well placed cheek bones, her diminutive nose, the beauty mark under her fading makeup…

Only when she speaks do I realize I've been staring at her, uninvited and unwelcome. “I should probably be going…”

When I look into her eyes, my ‘sorry’ is halted on my parted lips. Her mouth spoke of leaving but I read her eyes like a headline on the New York Times. Not that I need a headline font to read her eyes, most days. When she doesn't have her guard up, I like to imagine that I can read fonts smaller than the fine print on the ads in her eyes, without my glasses. And tonight, I read it loud and clear. Earlier tonight, she told me about everything that happened while I was away. The affair, about him being here in D.C. for her, even about her brief consideration of what it would be like to return to him.  Selfishly, I don't resent this man. Somehow he's led Scully right back to me. To our quest. But there's something else there.

My eyes move back and forth between the two of her bright blue eyes as if reading the featured front page article now. She wants to stay.

On the occasions it's crossed my mind why Scully and I have been able to stay seven years platonic, I've always thought it was her resolve, her integrity, perhaps even her issues that kept us proper, kept us safe. But with this one look tonight, I am knocked on my ass.

I have been the one holding her at arm's length. What could someone like me possibly offer someone like her? Every relationship I ever had, I wasn't needed. And that was fine. If I dated women that didn't expect healthy relationships, I wasn't expected to be a healthy, whole human being. I served my purpose until I didn't have anything else to offer them. A woman like Scully needs, deserves more than than any woman I've ever been with. There's no way I could have returned the infinite depths of her devotion, and deep down, I've somehow always known that.

After her cancer, after Emily, after Antarctica and Africa...after that damned son of a bitch Padgett, I tried to do trivial little things to show her how much I appreciated her loyalty, her friendship. Birthday Sno Balls lit up like the Fourth of July, dancing, baseball, a New Year's kiss, but I didn't fool myself that I brought her any real happiness.

Admittedly, the biggest hurdle was my obsession. The personal costs, for both of us, for her more than I, had been high. But I'd found answers. Finally. And now I've been coming to realize that any answers I might seek from here on out aren't worth our, her blood, sweat and tears anymore.

Shortly after I'd learned of Samantha’s fate, Scully had asked of me a most precious gift. She asked me to be a part of restoring what was lost, her involuntary sacrifice to our cause. It hadn't taken me long to come to a decision, of course I would give her what she asked. The ultimate gift of friendship, one giant leap at restoring what had been lost to her.

It wasn't until the IVF had failed that I realized it was more than that, more than friendship. The disappointment we both felt made me realize I loved her in such a normal, healthy way that I never thought I'd be capable of. But until this moment, looking into the eyes of the mother of my would-be child, do I realize how much more I want to give her, how much I am able to give her now. Respect. Love. My whole heart. Funny how the woman I put on a pedestal as too good to give me her heart is the same woman that fixed mine.

All these years, I figured Scully was the one with her walls and her professionalism stopping us from ‘making a mistake,’ as I had once been sure she would see it. Of course I’d been too self-absorbed to see the signs. Nearly kissing Van Blundht, nearly letting me kiss her outside my apartment, New Year's, even that dark night I don't much like to think about. When Scully had come to me with results from yet another autopsy I'd asked her to perform, my mother's. I don't remember much, but I do remember holding Scully too tightly and kissing her desperately. She had allowed it, up until she gracefully stopped me when I attempted to remove her clothes.

It had been bad form on my part, and in the dark, as I was, I'd assumed she stopped me because she didn't think we should cross that line. But now, I think I see that she just didn't want to cross that line then. Not when I couldn't see nor appreciate what was happening between us. Can I see it now? I think I can...

In no way do I think I could be boyfriend of the year material, and there's no way she doesn't know that. I smirk and ask her if she knows that in one of our wordless conversations, with my most playfully pathetic smile. “I'm ready if you are, Scully.”

 

“Ready for what?” She tilts her head, the question all over her face.

I've read her wrong. I feel the hot chill of embarrassment start at the top of my head, travel through my chest, over my heart and creep down into my stomach. “I...uh…”

Then her smile and her soft little chuckle knock the cold sweat off, and my breath right out of me. “I had you big time,” she says before reaching up to grab both sides of my face, crushing my lips into hers for a closed mouth kiss. My eyebrows shot up to my hairline and my eyes open wide before I let out a hum at her surprise of her seizure of my face. Now, my eyes squeeze shut at the feel of her warm lips on mine.

As she had been reclining back with most of her weight on her hands, when she pulls me close she starts to fall backwards. I instinctively grab onto her midsection with one hand, the other sharply thrusting out on the bed behind her to support our weight.

I am frozen with her lips planted firmly on mine. One of her hands is still on my jaw, the other gripping tightly onto the back of my neck, holding herself up below me. My heart is pounding madly in my chest and I think I can actually feel my blood coursing through my veins all over my body, causing a deafening ring in my ears.

After either a few moments, or a few hours, I'm not sure which, she squirms and adjusts to give herself leverage to wrap her left arm fully around my neck. She parts her lips, tilts her head, then after a brief hesitation and a puff of air from her mouth blows onto mine, she parts my lips with a thrust of her tongue. The top of flicks the inside of my upper lip before it greedily finds my own tongue, the rough surface of hers skimming over mine once, twice.

Her fingers have been feeling out a little pattern on my jaw this whole time, and now her nails are lightly scratching me there. She breaks the contact of our mouths for a breath of air, but my insistent lips seek hers with the patience of a 17 year-old groping his best girl in the back seat.

With the grace and prowess of said 17 year-old, I urge her down towards the mattress, climbing on over her. I straddle her hips, brace myself with both hands on the bed and push her down into the pillow with the force of my kiss.

I momentarily wonder about the state of my breath, as I didn't brush my teeth after I woke from that brief round of sleep. To be be honest, hers is not the freshest breath either, but not at all unpleasant. Somehow it adds to the real world quality of this moment. If her actions beneath me are any indication, she doesn't think that I need to brush my teeth, either.

While I am exploring the uncharted territory of her mouth, her hands are roaming everywhere. Face, back, shoulders, neck...but when one of her dainty hands snakes its way down my abs and her palm brushes over a highly sensitive place just above my waistband, I think I actually growl and finally break our kiss, my forehead resting against hers.

“Jesus Christ, Scully,” I shudder, feeling something tingle down my spine.

She simply nods, her nose brushing against mine, shivering a bit herself. And I'm pretty sure she's not cold. “Mulder…”

“Are you ok?” To say I had been a little eager was an understatement.

“I'm wearing too many clothes.” I hear the smile in her voice, and answer with my own.

Forehead still resting against hers, I move a hand to one of her forearms at my shoulder, feeling the sleeve of her blazer. “Is that your medical opinion?”

She nuzzles her nose against mine, breathing in deeply. “It's something like that.”

“Mmm...perhaps we can find a solution.” I nuzzle her nose in return. “But I have to try this again, first.” My mouth hovers over hers for a moment, asking silent permission before I kiss her again. I have to experience that high once more. I don't know how I will ever be able to work with her now, without being able to push her up against a wall and do this. I'm a junkie now, hooked on her lips for good. Not the most romantic analogy, I know, but God damn.

Scully is a wonderful kisser, and we're soon right where we left off. I kiss her until my lungs burn with lack of oxygen caused by my pounding heart and my unwillingness to take the time to breathe properly. My heart is pounding so hard I feel it everywhere, especially my cock, throbbing away between my legs.

She squirms beneath me, trying to keep our mouths connected while she attempts to wriggle out of her blazer. I huff in frustration. “C’mere,” I mumble as I crouch back over her legs and pull her into a sitting position. We both fumble around, not exactly working together as we remove the offending garment, but somehow get the job done. I toss it over one shoulder, and as I do, she swiftly and efficiently pulls her sweater over her head and tosses it in the same direction.

I am staring, no, I’m ogling her breasts. Her bra is satin, black. Plain, everyday, practical. Probably more comfortable than the lacy little numbers of men’s fantasies. Yet, it’s perfect, and she wears it well. It’s so Scully.

I could have stared at least a few minutes more, however she's pulled me back into another kiss. Not that I mind, perhaps I'm not the only junkie in this room.

She reclines back to the pillow again and squirms beneath me, hiking up her skirt enough to open her legs and allow me to settle between them, never breaking our kiss. I moan into her mouth, the feeling of skin on skin has me already wanting to bury myself eight inches deep inside her. The thought alone makes me thrust, and my hips shove up the material of her skirt the rest of the way up so that my crotch comes into contact with hers.  
Even through all the material, my pajama pants, her nylons and panties, the thought that my cock is settled right between Scully's legs has me thrusting again and again. Her legs are open wide, her calves on the backs of my thighs holding me against her. When she gyrates her hips up towards mine, I feel lightheaded.

I move my hands to her head, my fingers weave into her hair and tilt her head back. My lips leave a trail from her mouth, down her jaw, to her exposed neck. I place a few feather light kisses over her throat before gently scraping my teeth over it. Now I’m at the side of her neck, sucking softly. The sharp, chemical taste of her perfume and the scraping of the chain of her necklace on my teeth and tongue, along with her whimpers and gasps so close to my ear and her blunt nails digging into random places on my shoulders will all be my undoing.

As I continue to kiss her neck, trying my hardest to be mindful of not marking her, one of my hands has found its way to her rib cage. I’m hesitating, wondering if she’s ready for me to cross that line.

When her lips find my ear and she whispers “touch me, Mulder,” I thrust against her again and take her breast fully into my hand. I squeeze and grope her soft flesh and circle her nipple with my thumb through the cup of her bra. When she whimpers “more” into my ear, I want to give her more. I want to give her everything.

I raise up on my elbow to look down on her face. If she wants to stop at any point, it has to be now. She takes my breath away. Her eyes are hooded and she’s panting through parted lips swollen and red from our kisses and my whiskers. I move my thumb over the skin under her bottom lip, her fair skin also a bright pink, wondering if it hurts much.

She answers by pulling me down and giving me another kiss, slower and sweeter than we’ve shared yet. “I’m ready, Mulder,” she whispers against my lips. I move a hand over her hair, stroking her head and kissing her forehead as I’ve done many times before. I don’t know that I could ever describe how I feel right now.

I take a deep breath and lift myself above her, squatting back between her legs. I take in her body from her flushed chest to the bunched up skirt around her hips. It doesn’t take me long to find the zipper at her hip and pull it down. I remove it with her assistance, raising her hips, then maneuvering her legs to free herself from it. Next, we remove her pantyhose in the same fashion. Finally I take in her flat, toned stomach, the black bikini panties that match her bra. While I appreciate the view, she raises up and unfastens her bra. Then I stop her with my hands at her shoulders, taking a deep breath before I pull it down her arms.

Jesus, her breasts are perfect. Yes, I’d not so subtly snuck a peek before, but not in my bed. Not when they were rising and falling with her excited breath. Not with her nipples semi-erect just for me. I shoot her a smoldering look in her questioning eyes, letting her know I greatly appreciate the view. I want to bury my face there for maybe half an hour, but I also want to finish unwrapping the best present she’s ever given me.

I pull her panties off of her hips, feeling all the way down her legs with my fingertips. The day old stubble doesn’t even bother me. Everything about her reminds me of just how real this woman is, my Scully.

After settling over her again, she moves to undress me. “Not yet,” I still her hands. I kiss her forehead, then her lips once more. I fear if she touches me, I’ll be inside her and this will be over all too soon. As I deepen the kiss, supporting myself up on one elbow, my other hand returns to her bare breast. After giving it due attention, I brush my hand down her side, down her hip, to her thigh. I give her a moment to make sure it’s all right before feeling my way to the inside of her thigh, about halfway up. I wait for the slightest sign of hesitation in her kiss, but growl low in my throat when she grips my shoulder and lifts her hips toward my hand.

I break our kiss to breathe, looking down at her as I finally touch her there. Jesus Christ, she is wet. I stroke her outer labia a few times with the backs of my fingers before parting her lips with my finger tips. My mouth mimics hers, just a few inches from mine, opening in pleasure. Her eyes glide closed and she licks her lips when I slide my finger over her opening. I'm beginning to physically shake from the whole experience.

When I slowly push one finger inside her, her eyes open to meet mine, unfocused. “You’re killing me, Scully. You’re blowing my mind. You’re so Goddamn beautiful.”

“Shut up, Mulder,” she sighs.

I remove my finger from her and bring it to my lips, tasting her while I keep my eyes on hers. She looks simultaneously embarrassed and aroused. Honestly, I’m dying to go down on her, but have had experiences with women who hadn’t showered in maybe a few hours previous that left a bad taste in my mouth. I assume Scully hasn’t showered since she got dressed this morning. However, that will not be a problem.

Letting her know with my eyes exactly what I’m about to do, I get up on my knees between her legs, gently spreading them open for me. She bites her bottom lip and gives me the smallest nod. I bend to kiss her neck, working my way down to her breasts. My hard as nails dick twitches between my legs when I steal a glance at the reaction on her face and hear her gasp. I grab myself through the fabric, squeezing for just a moment, telling him to wait his fucking turn. I work my way down her stomach and settle down on my elbows between her legs. After holding her eyes with mine for a brief second, I take in the view she’s giving me.

Oh God, how long has it been? I rest my temple on one of her thighs, staring in wonder. Fucking perfection. I glance up at her face again, glad she can’t hear the profanities running through my mind as I spread her lips open with exploratory fingers. She is bright pink and hot and slick and more aroused than anyone I've seen. I move my hands around her legs, cupping the top of her thighs and spreading her legs just a little wider while my mouth finally makes contact with her there.

My eyes slide shut in pleasure as I tentatively lick her from labia to clit before giving her opening a deep, opened mouth kiss. She tastes salty and musky and like a God damn woman. My tongue simply explores and tastes, almost forgetting what I’m actually here to do until she twitches and gasps as my tongue brushes over a sensitive spot just outside her opening. When I go over the spot again, she whimpers and now her fingers are in my hair, holding me to her.

I shimmy to the side a little, to give myself a better angle, but also to allow my right hand to find it’s way to her stomach, tickling my way down through her curls with my fingers. I take some of her moisture in my mouth and mixed with my spit, lubricate her clit before seeking that spot she liked with my tongue again. I find it at just the same time my thumb barely flicks over her now moistened bundle of nerves.

“Oh, Mulder, Oh my God!” Her exclamation shocks the hell out of me. I open my eyes and glance up towards her eyes, but they are closed with pleasure written all over her face. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop,” she begs through clenched teeth with her fingers lightly pulling on my hair. Not for all the answers to all the conspiracies in the world would I stop right now, Scully.

I search around for any other little places that may get her worked up, taking note of every reaction from her, teasing each one for a few moments before moving onto the next. I prefer to take my time, building a woman up slowly. Besides that first place I found on her inner labia, she strongly reacts to attention just below her clit.

If I would have had to guess, I would have imagined Scully as a quiet lover. I wouldn’t compare her to a porn star--I wouldn’t ever compare Scully to a porn star--but what I mean is that she isn’t making noise for the sake of making noise. She honestly responds to everything she enjoys. Like now, after teasing around her clit for a good minute or two, when I finally gently flick my tongue over it a few times, she’s twitching and moaning. “Yes, Mulder, yes!” She's not yelling, but she's not whispering either.

She surprises me, because I’ve rarely even seen her really enjoy food. I thought the two were kind of correlated. I think I maybe saw her eyes just slightly roll back once when she daintily ate ribs. But never so much as a satisfied moan, even when starving. Even eating chocolate cake that honestly made me a little horny.

To give my mouth a break, I stop for a moment to watch myself finger her. I watch her face, trying to discern how she likes it. Encouraged by her whimpers, I start to move faster. “No,” she whimpers and grabs my wrist, holding me still for a moment. I feel her muscles squeezing my finger and my cock twitches in response. I lick my lips and watch my finger slowly move in and out of her.

“Like this?”  

“Mmm.” She nods once, letting me know I’m on the right track. I pull my finger almost completely out of her, putting more pressure on the front wall of her vagina now, just inside the opening. When she begins to breathe heavily and she releases my wrist, I know this is going well.

I watch my finger slowly disappear inside her again, feeling from that spot just inside her all the way to her G-spot. Careful not to move too fast, I finger her slowly, and after a minute she’s moving her hips subtly to my rhythm. She’s also gripping the pillow above her head and when she actually moves a hand to her breast and pinches her nipple, I growl and remove my finger, immediately replacing it with my mouth. I bury my face in her folds, attempting to reach just as deeply with my tongue. Fucking her, making love to her with my mouth. I'm fucking eating out Scully and she's going to come.

Her hand is on the back of my head, holding me tightly against her. I begin to to give equal attention to her vagina and her clit with my mouth when she starts to tremble, arching her back. She’s on the edge, giving encouraging yeses and Oh God Mulders and pleases, actually begging me to send her over the edge.

My mouth is wearing out quick and I wonder if they make some kind of endurance trainer for this, because she makes me feel like a modern day god of cunnilingus and I want to give it to her every day for the rest of my life. I decide there probably is no such device, and I’ll just have to exercise my mouth on her.

She is coming as I suck and circle her clit and her fingers scratching my scalp. When she is finally spent, I rest my cheek on her inner thigh, breathing deeply and trying to calm myself.

“Oh my God, Mulder,” she says and moves her hand over her eyes, actually smiling.

“You already said that.” I am smiling myself as I crawl back over her, gently settling down over her. “Once or twice,” I say looking down into her eyes.

She smiles more widely, a sultry smile, as she tugs at the waistband of my pajama pants. “Off, now.”

She urges me over onto my side, guides me to remove them, then watches me do so. She turns toward me once I am naked and I attempt to take her into my arms, but she stops me with a hand on my chest, letting her eyes trail down my torso, towards my throbbing erection. When she takes me in, she licks her lips and surprises me by tentatively taking me into her hand. “Jesus!” I whisper loudly and her eyes return to mine.

I gently remove her her hand from me. If she does much more, I will be out before the main event. I stare into her eyes for a moment, not believing we are really here.

“Now, Mulder, now,” she whispers before pulling her mouth to mine. She moans and immediately kisses me deeper, presumably tasting herself on me.

I urge her to lie on her back again with a hand on her hip, moving over her again. I break our kiss and, supporting myself up on one hand, move my hand between her legs. Having gone down on her, I want to make sure she has enough lubrication. I push my finger inside her, gently pulling out some of her moisture and spreading it around her opening.

My eyes are watching the task at hand, and when they return to her face, she’s got tears in her eyes. She moves her palm to my cheek, gazing up at me like making sure she was ready for me was the most romantic thing I could have done for her.

A smile pulls at my lips, feeling my heart contract at the look in her eyes. “Hey now, none of that,” I say before lowering myself to kiss her cheek, then her temple. I nuzzle her nose before looking down into her eyes again, making sure she’s alright.

She nods and guides me to her, teasing the sensitive spot just below the head of my dick with her thumb along the way. I stop her just before I make contact, taking myself in her hands and taking the lead, taking control, taking one last moment to breathe.

I find myself frozen, all of a sudden, something stopping me from moving on. I am thinking of our earlier conversation on the couch of all things. Of right and wrong turns, about whether or not everything's led to this moment.

My eyes have wandered and focused on a fallen strand of her hair on my pillow, somehow something so small leading me into a crisis of conviction that this should be happening. With every fiber of my being do I know that she is everything I've ever needed, she's given me so much more than I deserve. But just because I've gotten some answers and I've mellowed a bit as of late, what do I bring to her table? A broken, half repaired heart. She heals me through every ordeal by pulling me through, yet every time there is such instance for me to gain strength, a little piece of her is plucked away. By them, by monsters, by me.

She is strong, my Scully, she regains that strength from somewhere. From God? From thin air? Even so, scar tissue remains. She day by day becomes hardened, less and less like the fresh faced girl that I first met.

“Mulder?” The hand she had just been guiding me to her with finds its way up between us and to the side of my face. Her other is resting on my ribcage.

“Scully, I...this…” I am petrified.

“Hey,” she asserts, and urges me to look at her with that hand on my cheek. She can read me like an open book, and the way her heart breaks for me makes me feel like an emotionally stunted pity of a thing.

“Everything we do, every choice we make, leads to the next moment, Scully, and I...if we do this, it's going to lead to the next moment, and the one after that. And what if it's the wrong road, the wrong choice, and it... it's wrong? For you? I mean, what if you're already on the wrong road and you're missing the signs and you just keep making the wrong choices and…”

During my ramblings, her face has gone through a myriad of emotion, but has landed finally on an endearing smile. When I pause, and she sees the confusion on my face, she tries to suppress her smile with an apology. But she is unsuccessful, and it is contagious. “Mulder…” she mumbles against my lowered forehead, before planting a lingering kiss there. Her hand on the back of my neck holds me there. “The signs have led us here.”

I feel a pleasant warmness touch my spine and permeate my brain. I know she just spoke a truth so true that I just felt the touch of fate and destiny and other forces above my ability to comprehend giving me their blessing. When I look at her again, the smile on her face reminds me of the girl I first met, and I realize that I do give her that. Maybe only her God knows how, I certainly don't know how, but she smiles all the same.

“You think signs led us here, hmm?” I ask, tentatively lowering myself over her, reveling in the feel of skin on skin down my chest and torso. “You really believe in that?” I kiss her cheek, right next to her nose.

“Mulder, it should come as no surprise to you that I believe this. Not in the same way as you, but we are not going to have that discussion right here, right now.” Her mouth is seeking out mine. With my forearms under her shoulders, I hold her head in my hands.

When our mouths connect again, I feel that warmness from my spine spreading through every nerve. I had gone soft during my little production but I am nearly ready to go again, what with her breasts tight against my chest and a kiss that nearly has me believing in her God.

Her hands hold on to my rib cage as we adjust our hips and my member finally comes into contact with her wetness. It only takes her a moment to guide me to her opening with her hand, and I begin to slide inside her.

Still, we kiss, but quickly become distracted with what is going on down below. Her hand is on my hip, making little groping motions, beckoning me to push on.

She is tight, Christ she is clenching around me even as she is warm and slick and velvety in that welcoming way a woman feels after a recent, previous orgasm.

Soon, our kisses subside and we are only panting and licking our own lips. All I hear are our out of sync ragged breaths as I try to contain my excitement, restraining from raising up and thrusting the rest of the way inside her.

She quivers around me, opening her legs wider when she has adjusted and can take a bit more. I have to raise a bit, and when I grip her thigh and push in another inch, she arches her back with a grimace on her lips.

I instinctively pull back, but she adjusts her hips and guides me back where I was, and further.

“Yes…” she whimpers and I tremble, every sense quickly becoming overwhelmed. I begin to pull out, push inside her, pull out, push inside her, advancing maybe centimeters with each slow plunge.

I watch her face intently for any sign of pain or discomfort. Her eyes have been closed for maybe a minute, sometimes biting her lip, sometimes wrinkling her brow. When she opens her eyes and looks into mine, I see her physical reaction to me. Her pupils dilate, her cheeks flush, her lips part. Jesus fucking Christ she just got degrees warmer around my cock and I feel an outpouring of new wetness around me. She adjusts her hips, opens her legs to me and nods.

I want to take it slow despite her invitation. I am but a man, and we both let out a groan  when I thrust fully inside her. She still quivers around me at the intrusion, I feel every fucking twitch. I think I even feel her heart beat.

I want to start thrusting, my cock demands it, knowing she could take it. But I remain still, something deep inside me wanting to savor this moment, my last first time.

Propped up on my hands, I simply stare upon her face, watching her intermittently look upon me and then not, still adjusting to the intrusion.  
Eventually, she looks me square in the eye and nods.

I start to move slowly, immediately realizing that this is going to be a struggle. I don't have sex with a woman without making her orgasm, not since I was 19. I just don't. I can't. Even if a girl is spent from my mouth, I am going to do everything in my power to get them there again. And this is not just a girl.

Before long I’m moving at a slow pace, remembering how she liked me to finger her. Don’t think about that. Look at her, she licks her lips, eyes closed. She arches and yanks the pillow from under her head, slapping her hand against the wall to give her leverage. She opens her eyes as her legs rise up on my hips, allowing me to enter her more fully. Oh fuck, she’s urging me faster, faster. I mentally grasp at a distraction. Last week, Frohike’s 3-bean chili and 3 flatulent Gunmen. She whimpers beneath me, not sensing my dilemma. She’s grabbing my ass, scratching the wall, urging me on. I’m looking at her hand, trying not to look at her face.

My dick is not listening to my brain, my hips move of their own accord, to the pace she sets with her hand and her hips. “Mulder?” the sound of her voice pulls me further down the rabbit hole. She knows I am not with her.

Shit, I have to stop, I won’t make it longer than three more thrusts, on the safe side. Two. One.

My groan is embarrassing, but it almost physically hurts to stop. I raise up on my knees, with my hands resting on her knees. I’m panting, looking at the wall, the ceiling, honestly a little light headed. My hips are still and I feel her muscles twitching violently around me in protest, she was close. Not close enough.

When the room has mostly ceased spinning, I make the mistake of looking at where we are joined. God damn. I’m not all the way inside her but at the sight, on instinct, I grip her knees and hold her in place when I thrust deeply inside her.

She gasps in pain and raises up on her elbows. Shit, moron, it’s been a while for her and that was really fucking deep. Her hand is on my back now, trying to pull me back down over her. I relent and drape myself over her, afraid to move. My hand is in her hair and I try not to clench the fist too tight, not to pull her hair to the point of pain.

I kiss her cheekbone close to her ear, beginning to mumble. Her hands move over my back, her fingers feather lightly following invisible trails up, down and back again. She sighs and squeezes the muscles of her vagina around me and I could die. I cautiously begin moving again, and she responds, shivering and humming beneath me, gripping my back. “Scully, what are you doing to me? It’s too much, you feel so good, loveyousomuch.”

It was almost inaudible, but the way her muscles tense, all over her body, I know she’s heard it. I don’t even know what the hell just happened. I don’t realize my hips have stilled again until she whimpers. “Mulder, Mulder, oh my God.” When I look down at her, only then do I realize what’s happened. Her eyes are squeezed tightly closed, and a tear streams from one, down her temple before disappearing into her hairline.

She is not coming, but she is close. On the edge, and I join her on that higher plane. The pain and distraction of trying not to blow my load into her is gone, and I feel the pleasure in every muscle of my body. I briefly wonder if this is what Tantric sex feels like.

All I think of now is bringing her there, and that is distraction enough to hold my impending orgasm at bay until she is pulsing and quivering beneath me, more tears of sheer pleasure falling from her eyes. When she opens them to look at me, still riding the wave of an orgasm that doesn’t seem to end, and she reaches a new peak, I give one final thrust and join her there.

Now I am on my back, staring at the ceiling with a hand over my heart. I take deep breaths, trying to help it slow its pounding. I glance at her, still on her back. I had moved my arm under her head when I moved off of her. Her eyes are closed and she breathes through her nose and mouth as she too attempts to return to resting heart rate.

When she looks at me, she half smiles, looking quite impish. I return her expression with a leer before I maneuver my feet, finding the bed sheet, lifting it enough to snatch it with my hand. I drape it over her.

“Thank you,” she says, and grips it at her chest, the room is cooling rapidly. I take enough of the sheet to cover my hips, looking at her again.

Her eyes are closed once more. I watch her face, trying to gauge her emotion. Finally she takes a deep breath and exhales quickly, that way she does when sleep is on the horizon.

“I'm hungry, Mulder,” she mumbles.

Shit. Never have I ever felt like more of an asshole for not having anything substantial around for her. “I’ve got a frozen pizza...I think.” I touch her cheek in a silent apology. My bicep flexes under her head with my movement, and she gazes at me sleepily. “You want it?”

“Mm,” she non-replies, turning to face me. She curls up, balling the sheet in a fist at her chest, trying to get comfortable. I nudge her to let me move my arm and she props up on her elbow long enough for me to retrieve the pillows and return them to their places.

As I turn off the lamp, she settles in, facing me. By the time I get comfortable, she is already asleep. I tuck her hair behind her ear and she doesn't stir. I hesitate for a moment before stroking right above her eyebrow, from her jaw to her chin, and finally her cheek.

I want to kiss her eyelids, I want to hold her close, I want to stare at her all night. Great, that Aerosmith song from that movie that came out what, two years ago, runs through my head. The song is so true, but shit, that song just won't seem to die. You still hear it everywhere.

Finally, I rest my hand over hers, on the bed. I do want to hold her in my arms as we sleep, but I don't want to push my luck. I stroke her hand a few times, kiss her forehead. I don't remember anything after that.

I bolt upright in the bed, looking around, trying to assess the situation. My bedroom. Where is my gun? The room is empty. When I see lightning and hear more thunder, I snap to and realize what's woken me. I look at the window and it is storming out there.

I lie back down. Why am I naked? This thought occurs at the same time I notice the train wreck called my bedsheets.

“Scully?” I call, holding my breath, not admitting to myself how much I hope she's in the bathroom.

I sigh, reaching for the phone, dialing her home number. I don't want to call her cell if she's driving in this storm.

As it rings, I think, I really should have thought this through. Maybe she needs some time. What if she answers? What if she doesn't answer?

She answers. I am unsure what to say for a few beats, I am silent before I finally come up with something. “I never took you for the love 'em and leave 'em type, Scully.”

She is silent for an equally long amount of time. My heart is pounding. “I never took you for a 'call a girl the next morning’ type of guy, Mulder.” The reserved, even tone of her voice gives nothing away.

“Oh, but you are not just a girl,” I say, echoing my thoughts from last night.

“Mulder…” I picture her licking her lips as she hesitates. “There was a storm rolling in, I was hungry, and I was cold.” She's not defensive, she's not making excuses, I can't read her. “It's a work day and I need a shower.”

“Let's play hooky, Scully. We never play hooky. Come back over when the storm passes.” I don't want to invite myself into her space. “Or we'll meet for lunch. We'll work through…” Work through this? Work through the extreme awkwardness of mind blowing, life changing sex? “... whatever is going on here.”

“I think you and I both know what we'd really end up doing with a sick day,” she says through a face splitting smile. I hear her voice break, trying to contain her giggle, through the phone.

Relief washers over me and through me. She was playing it cool, what a minx. “Honestly, I did mean it, about fifteen seconds ago. But I like where you're going with this better. What are you wearing?”

“A towel, Mulder. I'm getting in the shower.”

“I'll be right there,” I leer.

“No, get ready for work.”

“But, Scully.”

“No,” she says, playfully defiant.

“I'll do that thing you like,” I say in my best bedroom voice.

“Suit and tie, Mulder, that's what I like.”

“All right, I give. See you at work.” She hangs up, as is custom. No byes for us.

I am flushing the toilet when the phone rings again, and I nearly break my neck trying to get back to it.

I hear her shower running in the background. “But at five o'clock, I'm all yours.” Click.

 


End file.
